


Rise and Fall

by Bouncy_cat



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sherrif Stilinski Alpha
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-08-16
Packaged: 2017-12-14 19:27:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bouncy_cat/pseuds/Bouncy_cat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the alpha pack is defeated, there is still more than one alpha in Beacon hills...</p><p>This is an AU in which one alpha can take over another alpha's pack, if the other alpha submits to a bite. Also, alpha's can feel each member of their pack, sense extreme emotions, that sort of thing. </p><p>Beware: Prominent role for Sheriff Stilinski.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Damn it_. Stiles runs his fingers through his hair in frustration.

Today had been shaping up to be such a good day.  No school, no homework, no big plans other than playing some Runescape, because yeah, those tree-chopping skills don’t just come for free. They take effort.

So yeah…good day. Until now.

Because he knows that look on his dad’s face.

It’s his ‘something is wrong and I don’t want to tell Stiles’ look.

He hates that just that _look_ is enough to make his heart start pounding in his chest. Things have been so much better these last few weeks, panic-attack-wise, with the alpha pack gone, and his dad being the alpha of the former Hale pack.

Thing have finally calmed down. He can fall asleep without worrying about werewolves attacking him in the middle of the night. Yesterday he even slept with the window open for the first time in more than eight months.  

He's not sure he can handle it if everything goes to shit again.

“Dad?”

“Hey kiddo”

Funny how it’s still comforting to hear his dad call him kiddo, even when he’s nearly eighteen.

“Dad, what’s wrong?”

For a moment it looks like his dad is considering lying to him, but then he sighs. They made a deal, the two of them, after everything was finally out in the open. No more lying, no more withholding vital information. Werewolf confidentiality and police procedures be damned.

“Sit down, Stiles.”

Stiles heart beats a little faster. He obediently drops down on the couch. His dad’s alpha-voice doesn’t really work on him, not like it does on the wolves, but since he actually wants to be sitting down for the inevitably bad news, he doesn’t mind doing as he’s told.  “What is it?”

“Son, you know about how I feel the pack, the betas, inside?”

Stiles nods. “It’s a total hive mind thing,” he jokes feebly, then adds in his most robotic voice, “you will be assimilated.  Resistance is futile.”

His dad quirks an eyebrow at him. “I don’t know what that means.” He continues before Stiles can enlighten him about the finer aspects of the Borg lifestyle. “Anyway, you know the feelings have been getting stronger, more recognizable…”

Stiles nods for his dad to continue, he has no idea where this might be going, and the suspense is sort of killing him. He wishes the sheriff would just blurt out the bad news so Stiles can have a little panic attack, and then buck up and deal with it like he always does.

“And one of them is miserable.”

“O-kay…”

“I’ve felt it since the betas became mine, but at first I didn’t realize where the feeling was coming from.  I thought it was me, but-”

“It’s Derek, isn’t it?” Stiles blurts out. Because really, there’s no one else it can be. Scott, Isaac, Boyd, Erica, even Jackson, they’ve all been hanging out regularly at the Stilinksi home. Actually, regularly is an understatement. Constantly is more fitting. Literally, in Isaacs case, since he lives here now. Aparently werewolves wanting to be near their alpha is a thing. At least, it is when his dad is the alpha.

He’s sort of proud of that, although he wouldn’t mind seeing a little less of Jackson.   

Anyway, none of them seem depressed. But they haven’t seen hide nor hair of Derek in the four weeks since his dad bit the former alpha.

His dad nods. “It’s getting worse every day. I think he might lose control.”

“Well fuck.”

“Language, Stiles.”

“Sorry,” he mutters and barely refrains from rolling his eyes and saying ‘fuck, fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck’. Which would be totally counterproductive. 

His thoughts drift back to Derek and what happened four weeks ago. “You said he agreed, right? I mean, he _allowed_ you to bite him. So you could be alpha to the whole pack instead of just me and Scott. He knew what would happen, so why is he losing it?”

Stiles hadn’t been there when the whole alpha transfer thing went down. What with being in the hospital, and having nearly died and all.

His dad looked a little pained and Stiles felt a twinge of unease. “Uh, dad, he did agree, right? Please tell me it was his choice.”

Because the thought that his dad somehow took Derek’s position of alpha from him by force doesn’t sit well with Stiles at all. Derek had so many things taken from him already. His family, his home, his sister, his uncle, total creep though Peter was, he still meant something to Derek, and now his power and his pack. How much can one guy take before he just…snaps?

“Dad?”

“He agreed. He did…but…”

“But _what_ , dad?”

“Aww hell,” his dad sighs and rubs a hand through his hair. “We pushed him, Stiles. We pushed hard. Deaton and I, we told him he shouldn’t be the alpha to a couple of teenagers, I mean, look at the choices he’s made, the danger he put all of you in. He wasn’t ready to be an alpha. We told him they would be better off in my pack. And we kept…repeating it, kept pointing out his mistakes, until he just gave in and allowed me to bite him.”

They sit in silence for a few seconds before his dad continues. “The bite, it wasn’t just sinking my teeth in and that’s it. Nothing happened at first, I had to bite hard.” He reaches out and touches Stiles neck, the fleshy part where it goes from neck to shoulder.

Stiles shudders, imagining teeth sinking into that muscle. Even pinching it hurts like hell.

“He was struggling, couldn’t help it. I could tell he was fighting himself, to keep from pushing me away. Then he suddenly just went limp. Deaton told me it worked, because his eyes flashed blue before he passed out. We bandaged him up and I put him in the guest room. When I went to check on him later, he was gone.”

“Fuck,” Stiles mutters, because…fuck. This time his dad doesn’t correct him.

“I’m going to try to find him.”

“What, now?”

His dad nods.

Okay, there’s no way Stiles is not going with his dad on this one. “I’m coming with you,” he says, “and don’t go all ‘no Stiles, it might be dangerous, you’re still recovering bla bla bla’ on me because-”

“Stiles.”

“What?”

“Get your coat.”

\-----------------------------------------------

It’s never going to be not cool to be driven around in his dad’s police cruiser. When he’s in the front seat, that is. The back seat, not so much…

“So, sheriff” he prods his dad, “where to first?”

His dad shrugs. “I have no clue. I’m hoping I’ll feel it when we get closer.”

Right. “Okay, let’s not go on feels alone here… If he feels like crap he’s probably going to the place where he feels most comfortable, which in his case will be either a burned out house or an abandoned train depot. Mental problems much?”

“The Hale house was torn down remember.”

True. “There’s always the tunnels.”

“What tunnels?”

“Dad, I told you about the tunnels… Didn’t I tell you about the tunnels? I thought I told you about the tunnels.”

“You didn’t tell me about the tunnels.”

“Well, dad, there are tunnels.” He doesn’t wait for his dad to stop rolling his eyes before rambling on, “Do you call it a tunnel when it’s more like a very long and narrow basement? A tunnel sounds deeper somehow. They run from below the house a little ways into the forest.  For when the hunters came I guess. You know, like a rabbit burrow. They always have a couple of exits, so when the fox is digging on one side they can escape on the other…? Although it’s kinda weird to compare werewolves to rabbits in any scenario- unless they… _you know_ …like bunnies and-”

“Stiles”

“Yeah.”

“Where do you think he’d go? The house or the depot?”

“Let’s try the depot first, because I’m _really_ hoping we won’t have to go into those tunnels."

…

Derek is not at the rail depot. Fuck his life.

….

They drive over to where the Hale house used to stand and his dad doesn’t even have to get out of the car before he turns to Stiles and says, “He’s here.”

The fact that his dad just _knows_ , is a little bit scary and totally and completely awesome at the same time.

The sheriff sniffs Derek out like some kind of bloodhound and Stiles sees his expression getting more confused and troubled the closer they get. 

Stiles pokes his dad in the side. “Hey. Dad. What’s going on. Talk to me here, I can’t do the magical sniffing thing remember?”

“He smells…wrong.”

“How do you mean?”

“I don’t know, just _wrong_. It’s not a pleasant smell, but I’m not sure what it is, exactly.”

They walk through the woods until they reach a ditch and there in the side of it, well hidden by foliage, there’s a dark hole.

It doesn’t exactly look inviting.

“You stay here,” his dad says.

Right… “Pssyeah, just give me your gun.”

And it’s a testament to their lives that his dad doesn’t even object. “Try not to shoot him unless it’s absolutely necessary, it’s got the ‘special’ bullets”.

His dad clicks on the flashlight and they push their way inside. Once they’re in, the tunnel is surprisingly high and they make quick progress. They don’t even have to go really far, before Stiles starts hearing low menacing growls.

So, Derek hasn’t lost his sunny disposition.

They round a corner into some kind of room and the flashlight shines on a figure backed up against the wall.

Stiles first thought is, that’s not Derek.

It certainly doesn’t look like Derek. This half shifted thing has nowhere near Derek’s bulk, in fact it looks almost emaciated.

The hair’s the same though, even though it’s plastered to the wolf’s forehead. The bone-structure fits. It’s wearing Derek’s jacket…

Jesus, how can any person change this much in only four short weeks?

He starts forward to get a closer look and Derek snarls at him, snapping his teeth.

It doesn’t scare him really, Derek’s done worse before, but his dad _roars._ And wow, Stiles has never heard him make a noise like that before.  Not even that one time he accidentally slammed the jeep’s door closed on his dad’s fingers.

Derek sort of just drops at the sound. Like a brick. He’s literally flat on he ground, like he thinks they won’t see him if he’s just makes himself as small as possible.

It looks sort of pathetic. And it makes Stiles a little uncomfortable seeing the former alpha brought this low. 

It calms his dad down though. “Derek,” he says.

Derek keeps pretending to be one with the ground.

“Derek, look at me.” There’s a little more command in his dad’s voice this time and Derek slowly lifts his head up a little to stare at them.

He’s no longer half shifted, but his eyes keep flashing back and forth between their normal and werewolf states.

“Dude,” Stiles blurts out, “what the hell is wrong with you?” It’s like Derek has no control whatsoever.

Derek doesn’t answer, just breathes in heavy half growling, half whining breaths.

He looks feverish.

His dad walks up to the prone werewolf and tucks his shirt down a little at the neck. 

Stiles nearly pukes.  

So that’s what four weeks of untreated infection looks like…

Derek’s skin where the neck meets the shoulder is a swollen, dark red colour, yellowish at the edges of the wound and it looks wet, like there’s puss coming from it.  And yeah, this close you don’t need werewolf senses to notice the smell that’s coming off Derek.

Actually, right this moment Stiles is really glad that he _doesn’t_ have werewolf senses. He’s not sure how his dad can stand it.

“Derek,” the sheriff says, alpha voice still firmly in place, “get up, you’re coming with us.”

“Uh, dad,” Stiles mutters, “you sure it’s such a good idea to take the ‘out of control’ werewolf into public, where he can be seen by, you know, _the public_?” Although of course if anyone does happen to see Derek and the weird disco-eyes-thing he’s got going on, all his dad has to do is smile politely and say it’s some kind of new drug, and the nice concerned citizen will nod understandingly and be on his or her merry way.  The good folk of Beacon Hills have lots of experience ignoring stuff that doesn’t fit into their idea of reality.

“We’ll put him in the back and make him lie down. Nobody will see.”

“Well good luck _making_ him do _anything_. He’s not exactly known for taking advice. Bad advice, yeah, good advice? Not so much.” Stiles glances at Derek, hoping the insult will somehow jolt the werewolf back into awareness.  No such luck, he just keeps staring at Stiles and his dad with this scared and confused look. Like he has no clue what’s going on.

“Stiles, you go in front. Just walk. We’ll follow.”

Stiles wavers uncertainly, until his dad simply grabs Derek’s wrist and pulls him up, snarling when Derek growls at him.

“Go Stiles.”

He starts walking back through the tunnel slowly, trying to make it easier for Derek to keep up as he stumbles along behind his alpha.

The tunnel somehow seems a lot longer now.

When they finally see the light at the end of it Derek starts growling and whining again, struggling against the sheriffs unbreakable grip on his wrist.

“Stop that,” his dad says firmly, and Derek falls quiet.

Obedient, despite his lack of control.

Stiles is suddenly really glad that it was him and his dad who found Derek, because something _really_ bad would have happened if anyone else had wandered into those tunnels. 

Once they’re out Stiles starts for the car, but his dad suddenly stops, his eyes flashing red for a moment before returning to their normal light grey colour. “You can come out now,” he says loudly, and for a moment Stiles is confused before he hears rustling leaves and Chris Argent steps into the clearing, accompanied by four, well _goons_ seems the most fitting word.

“Sheriff” Chris says, tipping his head in greeting.

“Chris” his dad responds politely.

“Stiles” Stiles says, because hey someone has to.

“Would you mind if I ask you what you’re doing out here?” His dad says in a pleasant tone.

“I was called out here by my friends when they saw you and Stiles heading for the tunnels. Just a precaution.”

John nods. “And what were _they_ doing here?”

“Keeping an eye out for trouble.”

Stiles feels rage course through him at the words. “You were _hunting_ him?! Don’t you think you and your family and your werewolf hating buddies here caused enough trouble? And what about the treaty, don’t you-”

One of the hunters interrupts him. “We never followed him in there. We didn’t hunt him down, just…kept an eye out for trouble.”

“Stiles,” Chris says firmly, “he’s an omega, and he’s losing control fast.”

“He’s not an omega,” Stiles snaps, “he’s a beta who temporarily misplaced himself.” Out of sheer stupidity, he thinks, but he doesn’t say that last part out loud.

Chris has the decency to look a little uncomfortable.

 “And maybe you didn’t actively hunt him down,” Stiles continues, staring down the goons, “but I bet you made sure he knew you were out here, didn’t you? He was injured, and weak, and instead of calling my dad, his _alpha_ , and also still the _sheriff_ by the way, you just made sure he knew that if he came out, there would be a bunch of hunters waiting for him. Which, you know, pretty much forces him to stay in there, with no food, or medical care, slowly losing control. And the only fucking reason you did that is because hey, once they’re out of control, it’s totally okay to just slice them in half. It’s not like they’re human, it’s not like they have feelings and friends and family, right?”

Stiles takes a deep breath before continuing. “And you know what’s stupid? I totally get it. I get that if a werewolf is out of control and a danger to humans that it needs to be dealt with. But he wasn’t out of control when he first got here, was he? He was just hiding out, licking his wounds, so to speak. He would have had time to come to us, or go to Deaton, before it got too bad, if you hadn’t trapped him in there.”

One of the hunters takes a step closer to Stiles, but stops abruptly when both Derek and John growl at him. “We didn’t-” he starts.

“Oh shut up.” Stiles jumps in again. “Of course you did. No, you didn’t literally close off the entrance of the tunnels, I’ll give you that, but you might as well have. You knew he wasn’t going to come out of there when he was weak and injured, when he can’t defend himself…you _forced_ him into the state he’s in now.”

“And you know what the worst part is?” he says, turning to Chris, because yeah, the man should know better by now, “all of this could have been prevented with a phone call to my dad. One… Fucking… Phonecall… Now, _you guys_ are going to back away and respect the fucking treaty you have with the Stilinski pack and _we_ are going to take sourwolf here home with us, where he won’t be a danger to a single soul.”

There’s a tense moment where the hunters just glare darkly at them. Yeah, like that’s going to make an impression, they’ve got nothing on Derek’s usual sour wolf glare. And then Chris moves his hand and they’re backing away. Stiles stomps past them and his dad quickly drags Derek with them.

They reach the car without further interruptions and his dad manhandles Derek into the back, pushing the man down and telling him to stay put.

Once they’re safely onto the road, his dad drops a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “You did good, Stiles.”


	2. Chapter 2

It’s not long before they arrive at the Stilinski home and Stiles kind of hovers while his dad guides Derek into the house and upstairs.

The sheriff pulls Derek into the bathroom and pushes him down on the toilet seat. His fingers turn into claws and yeah, Stiles is never going to get over that, and he uses them to slice through Derek's shirt and pull it off his shoulders.

Derek stays quiet throughout but even Stiles notices that his breaths come faster. When his dad's fingers ghost over the wound at the base of Derek’s neck, a pained sound escapes the beta, much like a whine.

“Shit,” his dad mutters. He moves his hand to Derek's chin and lifts his face up so he’s looking him in the eyes. “Derek,” he says firmly. He gives Derek’s chin a little shake until the beta’s eyes focus on him. “You just sit here for a while okay, I’m going to call Deaton and we’ll get you fixed up.”

Stiles has a totally inappropriate moment of amusement at the thought of his dad calling a vet to get Derek fixed. It’s only the lost look on Derek’s face that keeps him from snorting out loud.

His dad grabs his cell and calls Deaton.

There’s a short conversation that, predictably, ends with his dad growling into his cell, “just get over here will you,” before he ends the call.

A moment of awkward silence follows where none of them seems to know what to do until Deaton gets there. Derek’s just sitting there shirtless, while Stiles and his dad are hovering.

Seeing as it’s going to take Deaton at least fifteen minutes to get here, Stiles decides the hovering thing is going to get old pretty soon.

He isn’t going to touch Derek’s wound, that’s Deaton’s thing, but there have to be other things they can do to help the sour wolf. He looks absolutely emaciated so first things first.

“Food,” he blurts out awkwardly. “Sandwich sound good to you?” He says to Derek, who doesn’t answer but does turn his eyes toward him, which is totally progress. “I’m taking that as a yes. You want something dad?”

His dad shakes his head and Stiles escapes the awkward silence of the bathroom. Once he’s in the kitchen he pulls open the fridge and looks at what they’ve got. Meat seems most appropriate for famished werewolves so Stiles piles the sandwich with as much meat as he can fit in it without it falling out on all sides. He grabs a bottle of water to go with it, because he’s sure fresh drinking water wasn’t in great supply in the tunnels either. 

When he walks back into the bathroom his dad is carefully wiping at the wound with a washcloth. There’s a strong smell of antiseptics in the air, which really isn’t much better than the stink coming off Derek, and Derek’s eyes look just a little more clear and focused.

“Hey dude,” Stiles opens the bottle of water, grabs Derek’s hand and presses the bottle into it. Derek’s eyes turn to where their hands are touching and for a moment Stiles flashes back to his hand on Derek’s jacket and the incredulous look that he got way back when they only just knew each other. The look that said ‘why the fuck is your hand on me?’

Now the look was more of a neutral ‘there’s a hand on me’.

“Good observation skills dude, that’s right, I’m touching you.  Now drink.” He pushes Derek’s hand up until the bottle is near his lips and Derek almost automatically takes a sip.  And once he starts it seems like he can’t stop and he drains half the bottle in a few seconds.

“Good boy,” Stiles tells him with a grin, because he’s never _not_ going to enjoy making dog jokes about werewolves, whatever the circumstances. Then he pushes the sandwich into Derek’s other hand because Derek doesn’t look like he’s going to relinquish the water bottle any time soon.

He doesn’t have to push this time. Derek lifts the sandwich to his mouth all by himself and takes a small bite, chewing slowly.

Stiles and his dad watch the beta eat and drink and only Stiles jumps and flails when the doorbell rings. _Damn werewolf hearing_.

\--------

Deaton huffs at the sight of the wound, readies a syringe, and Stiles looks away.  He’s really not big on needles.

“Alan,” his dad asks, “why isn’t he healing on his own?”

The vet gives the sheriff a significant look.

“What?”

Deaton seems annoyed to have to spell it out. “My best guess is, you won’t let him.”

His dad frowns. “What do you mean ‘I won’t let him’?”

“You’re his alpha. You created the wound; you’re controlling how fast it heals.”

“Are you saying this is my fault? That I did this to him? Did you know this was-”

“I’m only saying it’s your fault his healing is slower. It’s his _own_ fault his situation got this bad.  It wouldn’t have, if he’d taken proper care of himself. He should have come to me, or gone to a doctor, or Scott’s mother.”

Stiles wants to roll his eyes at that, because, yeah, having his pack taken away would have _really_ helped with Derek’s massive trust issues.

The three of them stare at Derek’s neck for a moment. There’s pus oozing from the wound. Deaton moves to clean the wound further, low pained sounds escaping Derek when he’s too rough.

“If I’m slowing down his healing,” his dad finally says, “then how do I speed it up?”

“I don’t know.”

This time Stiles does roll his eyes. “Oh come on, seriously?”

The vet shrugs. “I’m not a werewolf.”

Sometimes Deaton annoys the absolute shit out of Stiles.

His dad is looking at Derek with that face he has when he has to tell Stiles ‘I know we were supposed to eat together but work just called and I have to go’. It’s his guilty face. Only right now it’s magnified in strength like ten times.

Stiles needs to fix this. “Dad, you should try that trick Scott and Isaac showed you, where they take the pain away. Maybe if you concentrate on that, it’ll counteract whatever you’re doing that stops him from healing properly”.

His dad nods determinedly and places a hand lightly over the wound.   

For a moment nothing happens, then blackness starts creeping up his dad’s hand, running up his arm like black veins.

Derek sags like his strings have been cut and Stiles moves in closer to make sure he doesn’t take a dive off the toilet seat.

“Just think about the wound closing up, dad, imagine it healing.” Stiles hasn’t the foggiest idea whether this is going to work the way he hopes it will, but his dad seems to be doing as he says and the black keeps coming, so _something_ ’s happening.

He’s not sure how long they stand there, but eventually the blackness all but disappears and his dad slowly lifts his hand to see the results. 

The wound isn’t completely gone like Stiles was half expecting, but it does look a hell of a lot better.  It’s scabbed over and the angry red, purplish and yellow colours have made way for the rusty brown of a normal scab and the skin around it is a healthy pink. It looks like an old wound now, close to being completely healed.   

His dad crouches down in front of Derek’s slumped figure. “Derek, son, you feeling better now?”

What comes out of Derek’s mouth is more like an unintelligible croak than actual words, but it’s his first attempt at actual verbal communication, so Stiles counts it as progress.

“John,” Deaton nudges the sheriff, “I need to get back to the clinic. He’ll be alright now. Give him more water, feed him, and put him to bed somewhere. And for god’s sake, don’t let him run off again.”

“I won’t,” his dad says determinedly. His hand is clamped on Derek’s shoulder, but Stiles has the feeling it’s more to offer comfort this time, than to keep Derek in place.

 ----------

Stiles trudges down the stairs and finds his dad sitting on the couch, face in his hands.

Derek is upstairs sleeping like the dead in Isaac’s bed. That was Stiles’ idea.  He figured smelling pack would help Derek feel safe.  It totally worked because once they pushed him down on the bed, sourwolf literally sniffed the bed and pretty much planted himself face-down in Isaac’s pillow. They pulled his head sideways to prevent suffocation, but he doubts Derek even noticed, already fast asleep by then.    

He drops down next to his dad and pats him on the knee. “So… good day. Right?”

“I took his position because I thought I’d be a better alpha.”

Alrighty then, apparently they’re jumping right into this. “You are. A better alpha, I mean.”

“He would have died, if I’d waited much longer. Or killed someone.”

“You didn’t know that. You didn’t know he wasn’t healing.”

“I felt something was wrong. When I bit him, when I took his position as alpha, he became mi- my responsibility. I should have gone after him as soon as he disappeared.”

Stiles _really_ didn’t want to make his dad feel any worse, but… “Why didn’t you?”

His dad sighs. “Stiles, you are my son.”

“Uhhh yeah…” he says slowly, “I _was_ aware of that, actually. Wait- If this is some weird roundabout way of you telling me I’m adopted I’m going to be very upset.”

His dad lifts his head out of his hands to roll his eyes at him. _Progress_.

“What I mean is, you’re my _son_ , and Derek Hale let you put your life in danger, multiple times. I’m a _cop_ Stiles, I _know_ how easy it is for a human being to die. One blow to the head, one jab of a knife, or claw, in the wrong spot, and it’s all over. It’s only in movies where people survive against all odds. There have been so many times over the last year and a half, where you were this close,” his dad holds two fingers up with literally no space between them, “to getting killed. And Derek Hale was involved in most of those situations.”

 “Right” Stiles takes a deep breath. “I can see how that would make him…not one of your favourite people in the world. But dad, lets be honest here, _I_ put myself in those situations. _I_ made those decisions, not Derek. There was just no way I _wasn’t_ going to be involved, you know? Because Scott is pretty much my brother, and in what universe do you see me letting him deal with that shit on his own? And yeah, Derek was there and maybe he didn’t always make the situation better, but he tried to protect me whenever he could. He saved my life a couple of times too, you know.”

His dad nods. “I realize that, but it’s not- It’s not easy to let those feelings go, alright? But he didn’t deserve _this_. Whatever frustrations I had with him, he’s still my beta, he’s still part of this pack…A good alpha-”

“Dad, stop it. You _are_ a good alpha. Better than Derek was. He _tried_ okay, but he has so many issues, the pack would never have been as… _settled_ …as it is with you. So you f- messed up a little with Derek. Just means you try harder from now on. If any of us could use a good alpha, it’s him, and-”

Stiles stops babbling at the sight of his dad staring at him with a dopey look on his face. “What?”

“Nothing." His dad smiles and ruffles his hair. "You want to order pizzas for dinner? Isaac's going to be home soon and Derek could probably use some more food.”

“Dad, you do realize that just because you’re a werewolf now, that doesn’t mean you can get away with eating only junk food right?”

His dad stretches, and leans back on the couch with a grin. “Right. That’s reasonable. In fact, since you’re the only human in this family now, maybe we should all pay a little more attention to _your_ eating habits too. Got to keep you healthy after all.” 

Stiles jumps up and backs away. “Sorry dad, didn’t catch that last part.  Need to order some pizzas now. Good talk. Bye.”


	3. Chapter 3

Isaac and the pizza’s arrive at the same time, which puts one of those goofy smiles on Isaacs face. It makes Stiles kind of want to pet him. Which he doesn't do, because cute ‘n curly can be totally cranky when he takes offense to something. Isaac may look ridiculously sweet, but he’s like one of those cats that look all adorable and then claw you open when you're least expecting it.

As soon as Isaac steps into the house his smile is replaced by a puzzled look. His nostrils flare and a second later he breathes “Derek”. 

Then he looks at Stiles. “Derek’s here?”

“Yup. Upstairs as we speak, probably drooling all over your pillow. We put him in your room.”

His dad drops a hand on Isaac's shoulder. “We want him to stay.”

Something changes in Isaac's face and Stiles can’t really decipher what it means, but it’s making his dad frown so it can’t be good. Which is a surprise; because, if anything, he thought Isaac would be happy to have Derek here. They totally had a big brother, little brother thing going on for a while…

“Isaac,” his dad says, concerned, “are you okay with that?”

Isaac finally nods. “Sure, where uh, where will I-”

Then it clicks. “No, no, no, dude. We put him there _temporarily_. Because you smell good. To him. Because he’s sick. Wait- I don’t mean he’s sick because you-”

Thankfully his dad jumps in. “He wasn’t healing from the bite I gave him, and it got infected. He’s been hiding in the tunnels for the last few weeks... We’ve dealt with the wound, now he just needs rest and food and we put him in your bed because Stiles thought he might rest easier if he smelt pack.”

“And I was totally right too!” Stiles grins. “He did a face-plant into your pillow dude, like, literally.”

Isaac’s smile makes a comeback finally and his dad pats him on the shoulder. “We’re not putting you out of your room, son, it’s yours for as long as you want.”

“Uh dad, where _are_ we gonna put Derek?” Stiles asks, seeing as how Isaac took the guest room, they don’t actually have any empty bedrooms left. 

His dad thinks about it for a second, and then raises an inquisitive eyebrow at him. “Attic?”

Stiles first gut reaction is _no_. Because the attic is where they still keep a lot of mom’s stuff. Then he feels guilty…because neither of them actually ever go up there to look at any of it. It’s just sitting there in boxes… her clothes, her romance novels, the quilting stuff from the two months quilting stint she had. His mom would have hated that. She didn’t like things going to waste. And she certainly wouldn’t have liked them treating the attic like some sort of no-go area, like a shrine that’s never visited. 

“Okay,” he says finally, “attic it is. Can we eat now? I’m hungry. I had a very busy day chasing wayward betas and chewing out hunters and I deserve fast food as a reward.”

“Hunters?” Isaac asks.

Stiles shakes his head. “Later dude, during pizza.” He turned to his dad. “Do we wake Derek up?”

The sheriff’s head tilts in the way it always does when he’s concentrating on listening to something. Then he shakes his head. “He’s sleeping still, deeply. We’ll save him a pizza.” 

While the three of them eat, Stiles and his dad fill Isaac in about everything that happened that day.

“It’s good,” Isaac finally says, “I’m glad you went to get him. He’s… He’s a good guy. He cared about us; he did the best he could.”

The sheriff nods. “He wouldn’t have given up his position as alpha if he didn’t care deeply about you guys. Now he just needs to learn to be part of a pack again, as a beta”. 

 

It’s a couple of hours later and the three of them are on the couch watching some cop show that has his dad alternately snorting and sighing wistfully at the ridiculously advanced technology they’re using. 

Suddenly the sheriff’s eyes narrow and he jumps up, walking out of the room in quick strides. 

Stiles and Isaac share one puzzled look before scrambling off the couch to follow. 

They find the sheriff outside, standing next to Derek, who apparently managed to pry open the window and drop himself out of it. 

He doesn’t look like the landing was very comfortable.

He also looks pretty much wolfed out and Stiles takes a quick glace down the street, hoping none of the neighbors are looking out the window right now. He and Isaac quickly move to stand in a way that mostly shields Derek from being seen. 

“Don’t even think about it.” His dad tells the former alpha sternly. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“It’s fixed.” Derek grumbles, and wow, actual words. Stiles figures he’s talking about the wound. 

His dad shakes his head. “You’re still far from recovered Derek, and where would you go anyway? You don’t have the loft anymore. If you go back to the tunnels the hunters will undoubtedly come back. What were you going to do? Sleep in your car? And besides, right now, you have no control whatsoever. You’re wolfed out, in public, anyone could see you.”

Derek chews on his lower lip, making it bleed and it looks like it takes all the effort he could possibly manage, but slowly his facial features shift back to those of a regular human. Except for the eyes. He can’t seem to keep those in one color. 

“Come on,” the sheriff says, surprisingly gently this time, as he grabs Derek’s arm and starts pulling him into the house. “You’re welcome here, you’re part of the pack, so don’t go running off, okay?”

Stiles and Isaac follow the sheriff into the kitchen where he pushes Derek down on a chair. 

The former alpha looks lost. Like running away was the only plan he had and now he doesn’t know what to do, or how to act. 

Isaac sits down next to Derek and starts a conversation that pretty much consists of him talking and Derek occasionally grunting, and Stiles goes to heat up the pizza. Because Derek sure looks like he could use some comfort food right now. 

Derek startles when Stiles puts the steaming hot pizza down in front of him. His eyes flash blue and incisors pop out of nowhere.

“Dude,” Stiles says, “we have knives, you can put those things away.” Derek looks fairly mortified by the partial, and involuntary, change. So Stiles pats him on the back awkwardly in that ‘there there’ way that always seems to work on television.

Derek doesn’t even growl at him for it. And that’s just wrong. Stiles decides he liked the old Derek better. 

The first step to restoring that Derek, is fixing his health, and for that sour wolf needs sustenance, so Stiles nudges the plateful of pizza a little closer to Derek and Derek hesitantly reaches for a slice.

The pizza is gone within seven minutes. Stiles timed it.

Derek looks at the empty plate so mournfully that the sheriff gets up and takes the tub of potato salad out of the fridge. Derek gives him a guilty look but eats almost half of it before he slows down and his eyes start to droop. Apparently healing really takes it out of a wolf. 

“Isaac,” his dad says, “you don’t mind taking the couch tonight, right?” 

Isaac shakes his head fervently. “No sir, there’s a late movie on that I want to watch anyway.”

 

“Alright. Derek, you take Isaacs room tonight and tomorrow we’ll see about clearing out the attic. I think there’s even an old bed up there already, if you don’t mind using an old mattress.”

Stiles almost snorts, because when has Derek ever minded living in old places with crappy furniture? 

“I-” Derek starts, “You don’t have to. I have money, I can look for a new place.”

“We’ll see about finding you your own place after you’ve had some time to recover, okay? For now I don’t even want you going outside until you’re fully in control again.”

Derek looks majorly conflicted at those words. Which Stiles can totally understand, because hey, must be weird to be, what? 25? And basically be told you’re grounded. 

But they can’t risk having Derek wolfing out in a supermarket because someone accidentally bumped his kart or something. 

Derek seems to get that too, because he gives a small nod and then excuses himself from the table. 

 

The first day Derek and Isaac spend lugging around boxes, while Stiles and his dad go through them, sorting out what they want to keep and what they want to donate.   
Stiles first reaction to, well…everything, is to keep it, so it mostly comes down to ‘what would mom want’. In the end they donate practically all her clothes, and give most of her crafts stuff to a local school. She would have liked that. They sort out the other stuff from the attic and at the end of the day Derek has a perfectly respectable room. 

It has a single bed, a table in the form of a bunch of boxes with a table cloth thrown over it, a closet, made from more boxes with wooden planks between them to act as shelves, and even a small desk.

Everybody, including Derek, pretends not to notice when Isaac put his own pillow on Derek’s bed. 

Sure, there are awkward silent moments throughout the day, but there are comfortable moments too and Stiles decides, after they have dinner and Derek starts falling asleep at the table again, that it was a good day. 

There are approximately three good days before Derek starts going absolutely stir crazy. 

It would have been funny, if Derek’s restlessness didn’t also affect his dad, Isaac, Scott and any other wolf that happens to be at the house.   
Even Stiles himself is affected by it, which he thinks is pretty amazing considering his own special brand of always present restlessness. You’d think that once a certain level of restlessness is achieved it just doesn't get any worse. But you’d be wrong. 

Isaac starts spending more time at the clinic with Scott and his dad has a suspicious increase in double shifts suddenly, which leaves Stiles alone with Derek a lot of the time.   
On the eighth day of Derek’s enforced stay at the Stilinski house, Derek is pacing so much he’s driving Stiles absolutely insane.

Finally Stiles can’t take it anymore. “Oh my god, dude," he snaps, "can you please stop freaking pacing for five minutes?! Read a book or something, get a hobby. Knit a sweater, bake cookies, make flower arrangements for all I care.”

At that point he sees Derek staring longingly out the window. And Stiles gets an idea. It may be a dumb idea. And his dad might be just a tiny little bit upset with him over it, because Derek is strictly not allowed to go outside…

But he still grabs Derek’s arm and drags him to the back of the house and opens the backdoor. 

The Stilinski backyard is fenced and it’s not easy for any neighbours to look into it without making an actual effort to do so. So it should be pretty safe even if Derek did wolf out for some reason. 

It’s also an absolute jungle of overgrown bushes and knee high grass and weeds. 

The garden was always Stiles mom’s favorite place. She was so proud of her roses and tended them with almost religious care. 

After she- Afterwards, his dad tried to take care of them, but no matter what he tried, they started dying anyway and Stiles guessed that particular parallel was so painful that eventually he gave up and neither of them really used the backyard anymore. 

Derek is hesitating in the doorway. Stiles guesses he doesn’t want to disobey his alpha, even when said alpha is currently at work and left Stiles in charge. At least, that’s how Stiles likes to interpret things. 

“It’s okay, dude,” he tells Derek, “get out here.”

Derek steps out and nervously stands next to Stiles, breathing deeply. 

“If you’re bored, which I know you are, because you’ve been driving everyone absolutely fucking nuts for days, you could maybe try doing a little gardening out here.”

“Won’t your dad mind?” Derek grumbles. 

Stiles can tell the beta is trying not to sound too eager, but he’s pretty much vibrating in place with the need to move.

“As long as you stay in the backyard, we should be fine. No going anywhere else, okay? I’m risking being grounded for life, so don’t make me regret trusting you.”

Of course, Stiles realizes that Derek could have walked out the front door at any time and he wouldn’t have been able to do a single thing about that aside from calling his dad or the betas, but he’s conveniently ignoring that fact. 

Derek doesn’t seem to notice, he just keeps nodding and his hands twitch like they want to get started. 

“Okay then. I’ll just leave you alone to commune with nature. Don’t use your claws or anything, you’re still in semi-public.” With that, Stiles turns and walks back into the house. 

And then he gets a little jittery, because he just gave Derek permission to go outside, when his dad strictly forbade Derek from doing just that. But when he looks out the window he sees Derek already pulling weeds with a vengeance and the look on his face is somewhere between determination and complete bliss. 

Derek deserves a break, and if it gets Stiles grounded....well, then so be it.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting smaller parts of this story on tumblr, until I think I have enough words to post another chapter here. http://panda-pounce.tumblr.com/
> 
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> Please let me know what you think :)  
> I love comments as much as Stiles loves curly fries.


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